


Along the path Happiness Follows

by Lacertae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Omnics, Plants, Pre-Recall, Travel, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10038347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: *Genji/Zenyatta* There was a wilted, almost dead plant on the side of the road, and Zenyatta was known for taking care of broken, abandoned things. It all started from there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I could write something quick and short, and here I am, 7k later. That was not quick and short, but I hope you will still like it.
> 
> Title sort of has nothing to do with fanfic, but I am not known to be good at titles. I hope you like! Feel free to drop a review or kudos if you do!

**Along the path Happiness follows**

 

The small, potted plant was abandoned on the side of the road.

The pot was broken on the side, the hole big enough that half the soil had toppled outside, and the plant, withered and dried out, looked wilted and sad. It had been thrown aside with little care, covered in trash, unwanted.

Genji passed by it without even noticing it, his pace even, his thoughts elsewhere, the fate of an abandoned plant nowhere near the top of his priorities.

Zenyatta paused, his feet halting as his optical sensors looked down, zooming in on the faded green tinge of the plant’s stem, on its withered, crumpled leaves, on the broken pot. He glanced around, head tilted to the side, patiently scouting his surroundings.

The street was empty, and no one was in sight.

Realising Zenyatta was not following him anymore, Genji paused and turned around, “Master…?” only to find Zenyatta kneeling on the ground, hands carefully gathering the scattered soil, pushing it back in the broken pot, though it trickled out again from the cracks and the hole. “Master, what are you doing?”

Zenyatta did not look up from the plant, still considering what to do, then he grabbed the hem of his pant and ripped away some of the fabric; he neatly wrapped it around the vase, managing to keep most of the soil inside, though the wilted stem was hanging low, unable to hold itself up straight.

“Look at this poor thing,” he said, mournful. “Someone threw away such a beautiful plant”.

“That’s not…” Genji hesitated, unsure what to say.

That was a sorry excuse for a plant, and he was not sure the thing was still alive to begin with. It flopped around uselessly in his master’s grip, a few tiny, dry leaves fluttering to the ground as Zenyatta stood up again, carefully holding the vase in his arms.

“Are you taking it with you, Master?” he asked instead, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Yes,” was the reply, as if that had been obvious.

Genji’s eyes lingered on the lithe, delicate fingers wrapped around the vase, on the way Zenyatta placed it against the crook of his elbow, cradling it comfortably in his arms as he walked towards him, then he looked away, catching himself staring and feeling a lingering fondness spread through his chest.

“… as you wish”.

***

That evening, they were kindly offered a room for the night by one of the Shambali’s supporters, one of the many Zenyatta seemed to know wherever they went.

It was a nice, spacious room for the two of them, with a sturdy bed and a door leading to a small, private bathroom with a sink and a shower.

Neither needed the facilities, but after a day spent walking through dusty roads, Genji was grateful for the possibility to shower.

His body might have been mostly cybernetic, but there were human needs he still kept up with, which included eating and showering, and he took pride in keeping his body as clean as possible.

When he returned to the bedroom, wiping the excess water from his chest plate and his uncovered face with a small, white towel, Genji found Zenyatta sitting at the table with the vase placed in front of him, carefully unwrapping the piece of cloth from his ripped up pants to inspect the damage.

“I am not sure that’s safe to carry around, it looks like it’ll break down any minute now,” he offered, coming to stand behind Zenyatta to peek down at the plant.

It still looked as dead as before, and in the artificial light of the room, perhaps even worse.

“I fear you are right,” Zenyatta sounded displeased at that. “I will have to get a new vase tomorrow, and some replacement soil to fill it with”.

“You… are still going to tend to this…?”

 “Oh, of course! It is a pity that it was thrown away, I would love to see it blossom again”.

“Master, I wasn’t aware you knew how to take care of plants?”

Zenyatta tilted his head to look at him, their faces inches apart, and Genji heard the soft, familiar sound of Zenyatta’s fans whirring, then he took a step away and Zenyatta turned around to stand up and face him.

Genji had known him for over seven years, had lived with the Shambali monks for almost the same amount of time, and had grown apt with recognising the tiny, small gestures that Zenyatta used to convey the kind of emotion humans could so easily show with their faces.

His shoulders were squared and straight, his hands folded neatly in front of him, but his head was tilted to the side, and his forehead array lights were humming softly. His master was amused, and perhaps a little bit smug.

“It is always good to keep one or two skills a secret, you never know when they might come in handy”.

“… yes, because tending to plants can be so important in a life-or-death situation,” Genji fired back, lips pulled into a disbelieving smirk.

“Now, now, no need to be cheeky,” Zenyatta passed by him, swatting his shoulder gently on the way to the bathroom. “There is a time and a place for everything, Genji”.

“Well, taking care of shrubs isn’t a priority and I don’t really care much to learn, but if it pleases you, feel free to indulge, Master,” Genji answered lightly, but his mind wasn’t in it, focusing instead on the lingering warmth where Zenyatta had touched his shoulder.

Zenyatta’s quiet chuckle made Genji’s chest ache, the kind of aching sweetness he could never get enough of, and he fought the urge to bring one hand to his chest, his core thrumming inside him. He was glad Zenyatta was not looking at him then, as he was pretty sure his longing would be far too easy to read.

“So I shall, my dear”.

***

True to his word, Zenyatta managed to procure a new vase for his plant on the following day. It was a simple thing, brown and sturdy, and he filled it with fresh soil, delicately putting the plant inside, roots wrapped and covered with steady, practiced motions.

Genji watched him work, mesmerized by the familiarity Zenyatta appeared to possess, fingers gentle yet firm as he held the plant and pushed down on the soil with firm movements, tapping it to make sure it was compact enough afterwards.

It was impossible not to look –Zenyatta made everything seem simple, the care he put in everything he did visible even to a stranger. Genji’s core, that little traitorous thing, stuttered and sped up at the sight, a not so small part of him wanting to reach Zenyatta, kneel at his side and press his lips against the cool, firm surface of his face plate.

It was a desire that had taken root within him over the course of the past years, if not longer, creeping up inside him day after day, until Genji did not know when he’d started yearning to switch the delicate equilibrium between them into something else.

Genji did not feel shame for the way he felt for Zenyatta –despite his fondness for calling him his master, Zenyatta was not his mentor, nor his spiritual guide. Genji had no intention to study under him and become a monk, or follow the path of the Iris, like many of the apprentices at the Shambali monastery did.

Even if he had, Zenyatta was no more part of them, having picked his own path to follow. Genji had followed him more out of his own loyalty towards Zenyatta than for anything else, the need to be at his side stronger than any tie he’d created with the monastery itself. They had given him a home away from his original one, a place to go back to should he ever need one, but his place was, then and now, at Zenyatta’s side. For as long as his master wanted him there.

Since leaving the monastery, Zenyatta had made it clear they had ceased to be master and disciple, their relationship turning to that of equals, but out of respect and familiarity, Genji still often referred to him as ‘master’.

If he so wanted, Genji could have easily offset their balance with a confession… but he chose to be selfish instead, and keep his feelings to himself.

Things would change, one way or the other –as any other fool in love, Genji held hopes that his feelings were reciprocated, but there was something incredibly intense in allowing himself to gaze in silence, soaking in the deep longing and love he felt for Zenyatta, so much that the thought of admitting it to him felt almost too much, too soon.

This was Genji indulging in the privacy of feelings he hadn’t thought would be so sweet, enjoying each day the certainty that his feelings for Zenyatta was love.

Part of him thought it was enough, for now.

So, Genji practiced restraint, amused at the thought of how in the past Zenyatta had teased him on lacking such quality, too brash and quick to act and judge, no time to think or consider where his actions could take him.

In this, Genji had grown patient, and each day his feelings only seemed to grow, deep and strong, like the roots of a tree.

As he watched Zenyatta tend to the withered, almost dead plant, Genji wondered if that little thing, too, would blossom under Zenyatta’s tender care, just as Genji had before, and allowed himself a small, secretive grin.

“Genji, you have been staring at me for a while,” Zenyatta’s voice, teasing and amused, startled Genji out of his train of thoughts. “Is there something you would like to know, or is the sight so compelling you feel the need to stare?”

“I have been wondering how long it will take before you tire of fussing over that thing,” he shot back, grin melting into a fond smile. “Doesn’t look like it’ll survive the night”.

“Oh, you should learn to have more faith in how life always finds a way to persevere,” Zenyatta stood up, caressing the curve of the wilted flower with a finger pad, and turned to look at him. “After all, this is not the first helpless offshoot I’ve guided back to life”.

Genji looked away, the weight of Zenyatta’s words and the gentle fondness in his tone too much for him to take, warmth spreading from his core down to the tip of his fingers.

“Would you spar with me, Master, when you’re done with your new pet project?” he asked, turning a declaration of love to the next best thing.

He hoped the longing was not as obvious  as it felt to him.

Zenyatta laughed. “If you were jealous of Mister Flower you should have said so instead of asking for a beating”.

Genji spluttered. “Mister Flower? Is that… Zenyatta, is that its name now?” then, after a beat, “I’m not going to be defeated, this time”.

“Ah, but you say that every time,” Zenyatta’s forehead array blinked on and off, his own version of a wink. “And yet, every time the tide is in my favour”.

“Then I’ll keep saying that, until the time you’ll find yourself cornered and I will be the one to cheer”.

“… we’ll see, my sparrow… we’ll see”.

And if Genji thought there was a weird edge to his words, he did not linger on it.

Too much.

***

Despite Zenyatta’s constant care, Genji did not see any visible changes with the plant, at least for the first few days.

He refused to call it by the name Zenyatta had given it, which seemed to displease him a lot. Genji often wondered what sort of expressions Zenyatta could make if he had a face capable of emotion, but in this particular case he knew it would be a dejected pout.

Zenyatta was careful to keep the soil damp, adding a mixture to it that smelled foul to Genji’s enhanced senses, and trimmed away all the broken stems and the withered leaves, leaving behind what to him looked less like a plant and more like a naked stump.

Much to Genji’s amusement, Zenyatta also used a little trickle of Harmony energy from one of his orbs, barely a few drops of it, carefully administrated by hovering the ball near the tip of the stem.

It did not seem to have much of an effect, but Genji was quick to lose interest, merely observing the intense care Zenyatta offered to the plant instead.

After the first few days in town, when they were about to leave and it became obvious that the plant would be their new ‘companion’ Genji gave up on his reservations and procured Zenyatta a sling elastic bag to wrap around his torso, so he could put the plant safely there to keep it from being jostled around.

He had not expected to see Zenyatta react to this gesture by leaning against him, one hand coming to caress his cheek, and then Zenyatta pressed their foreheads together, array lights burning so brightly they almost blinded Genji and a soft ‘thank you, Genji’ murmured quietly before moving away, his back turned to him as he gently nested the plant into the sling.

The unexpected gesture stole Genji’s breath, and he was grateful to be wearing his visor, as his cheeks were burning crimson and his chest felt so full he feared he would implode.

With things like these it was so easy to entertain the thought that Zenyatta’s feelings for him could mirror his own, that he wasn’t merely delusional about that possibility, that he was not simply fooling himself… and yet, it was also easy to let insecurities bleed through, when he looked down at his modified body, at the scars on what was left of his skin, and remembered how he used to look.

Rationality and feelings would never get along well within him.

Zenyatta was so much better than anything Genji had ever hoped to be, and so much more than he deserved, but… if it was true, if Zenyatta could pick him over any other human, any other omnic… then Genji would never ask for anything else, ever again.

“You have been quiet for a while, Genji,” once again, Zenyatta’s voice called him back from the depths where he’d ventured, and Genji’s attention snapped to him, realising that as they walked, Zenyatta had moved closer to him, so close their arms were almost touching. “Is there something in your mind that you would like to share?”

Genji hesitated, for a second wondering, yearning, daring to hope– then he relaxed, and shook his head. “It is nothing, I just find myself tiring of our idle travels. It might be tempting the fates, but I’d like to find something my sword can cut that is not a slice of melon, Master”.

Zenyatta’s laughter vibrated through Genji’s chest like a blessing, like the crystalline chime his mother had once owned in his childhood memories, tingling whenever a gust of wind made it dance. It made him feel melancholic, longing for something almost within his grasp.

“It has been rather quiet, I have to admit,” Zenyatta hummed under his breath. “I can’t say I do not enjoy it, as it is not in my nature to bemoan the lack of discord around us, but it _has_ been a while since we encountered trouble. Do you think your dragon might get rusty?”

Genji shuffled uneasily, embarrassed when his first instinct was to tease back instead of taking the question seriously. “Spiritual entities cannot get rusty, but they do get bored”.

“Just like their owner, it seems. Well, I cannot make trouble appear from thin air, but I know someone who might enjoy sparring with you”.

That managed to surprise Genji enough that he spluttered, “not you?”

Zenyatta stopped moving, the whirr of his fans growing louder for a second. “Someone else,” he admitted after a few seconds. “She has a martial arts school in a small town not so far from here, I had been thinking about visiting, actually”.

“Wouldn’t that be… dangerous?” Genji looked down at his arm, his augmented strength, the body that had become a polished weapon that he’d learned to curb and sharpen with years of practice.

“Not if you make sure she does not hit you too hard,” Zenyatta replied, a smirk obvious in his voice. “She is no pushover, Genji. Where do you think I learned how to fight?”

That was enough to get Genji’s full attention. “You… you would be willing to let me meet the person who taught you, Master?”

“… you did say you were getting bored, and she might teach you something that I can’t”.

Underneath his visor, Genji smiled brightly. “I would like to, Zenyatta”.

***

Meeting with the person who taught Zenyatta how to fight was probably one of the worst mistakes in Genji’s life.

Whatever he had expected to see was not the bald, short tempered woman with a prosthetic leg that greeted Zenyatta by vaulting him over her head and stomping down on his chest, and when she greeted him with a fierce, clipped handshake, Genji looked into her eyes and felt a wave of dread fill him.

“So Tekhartha got himself a student,” she said, smirking. “I am Shuang. Let’s see where you stand”.

And afterwards, while Genji was recovering from a staggering defeat, she slapped his back, nudged Zenyatta’s side with an elbow, and stated “well, there’s still room for improvement”.

Startled at what felt like an offer, Genji had looked at Zenyatta in askance, and after what felt like the longest pause ever, Zenyatta stoic yet somewhat startled offered him a small nod. “No need to ask for permission, Genji, when a teacher wants to teach, a student only needs to listen”.

Shuang was absolutely ruthless.

If Zenyatta’s teachings had been gentle, soft but firm like water slowly carving a path into a rock, Shuang was like a storm, and her methods of teaching were harsh and unforgiving.

Genji had never felt younger than he did while under her care, re-learning things he thought he knew and then more, and despite going to bed at night feeling a deep seated ache in his body that he had thought he would never feel after becoming a cyborg, Genji felt blessed to be able to learn under such a teacher.

Zenyatta had nourished his soul, but he never had any interest to further his combat skills, only sparring with him to keep both of them in shape, even as he helped with Genji’s training.

This was new, and it felt good.

In the meantime, Zenyatta continued tending to his plant, offering Genji words of wisdom and encouragement from the sideline, amused but secure in the knowledge that Genji was in good hands.

There were times when Genji wondered if Zenyatta was truly as supportive as he sounded about this –about Genji sharpening himself to be smoother, _better_ – because there were lingering stares, a split second of hesitation whenever Zenyatta asked him, late at night, if everything was well… but in the end, Zenyatta did not speak, and Genji did not want to ask.

He continued learning under Shuang, and Zenyatta never joined in, quietly fussing over his plant.

Genji had little time to spare for anything that was not his hellish training, but when he curled up on the spare rolling mat in Shuang’s guest room to sleep, Zenyatta sitting nearby with the plant nested in his lap, Genji basked in the gratitude he felt for what Zenyatta had offered him despite whatever reservations he might have had.

He thought about making sure Zenyatta knew how much that meant to him, unsure how, and ultimately kept silent, watching the profile of his frame in the dark until his consciousness wavered and fell into sleep.

Sometimes, after Shuang was done with their daily training sessions, she regaled him with tales about Zenyatta and the time he had spent training with her.

It was always worth it to see Zenyatta’s forehead array burn in embarrassment at the reminder of his earlier days, an edge of his personality that only an extensive regimen with Mondatta had helped curb afterwards.

They remained at Shuang’s house for a full moon cycle, a month of intensive training. The night before leaving, Zenyatta left him alone in the room to go talk with her, and Genji’s eyes fell on the vase sitting on the windowsill.

There were a few, tiny leaves sprouting from the stem, now looking green and healthy, if still stunted. Under Zenyatta’s constant, continuous care, the plant was coming back to life.

Genji fell asleep with a smile on his face.

The following morning, as a parting gift, Shuang and Zenyatta sparred in Shuang’s backyard, with Genji as their sole spectator.

It was the first time Zenyatta had sparred with someone since they had arrived, and Genji found himself entranced from the very start.

They danced around each other, exchanging blows like one would exchange pleasantries, but slowly that changed. The dance became something more dangerous, sharp and fast, and Genji could only admire them as they battled with one another, seconds ticking by, then minutes.

Watching them, Genji learned that there was still a long way to go for him if he wanted to reach Zenyatta’s level… let along Shuang’s.

He also learned, much to his chagrin, that the sight of Zenyatta sprawled on the ground, limbs awkwardly spread in defeat as he tried to get up, looking tired and ruffled and his face plate smudged with dirt, did something specific to his insides that he hoped one day to replicate with his own strength and skill.

The thought sent a shiver down his back, and he was still thinking about it when they parted from Shuang and left.

“I was happy to see you again, Tekhartha,” were Shuang’s parting words. “And it was a pleasure to meet you, Shimada”.

“I think she was trying to teach me a lesson,” Zenyatta told him afterwards, tone far too cheerful for someone who had been beaten into submission after a long, impressive spar.

“What was that, Master?”

“Not to gloat when you are not the one subjected to someone’s training, I think,” Zenyatta hummed to himself, fingers rubbing at his chin in contemplation. “Or perhaps that I, too, can face defeat”.

“That is not a lesson you need to learn, though,” Genji glanced at him, confused. “You always make sure to remind me that there are always stronger opponents somewhere”.

“Sometimes it doesn’t have to be an opponent the one who defeats you, my sparrow,” Zenyatta twisted his head to look at him, all traces of amusement wiped away from his tone, and Genji felt a sliver of worry. “But in that case, there are times when there is no shame in defeat”.

Genji could not say he understood, as he felt like he was missing something there, but he nodded and followed Zenyatta, as he always did.

Carefully wrapped in its sling bag, Mister Flower’s new, delicate leaves soaked in the sunlight, and grew stronger.

***

There was something in Zenyatta’s mind, and it was obvious it was eating him from the inside, so much that even Genji had noticed.

Since leaving Shuang’s house Zenyatta kept stealing glances at him during their travels, and more than that, he seemed to want to engage Genji in spars more often as well.

That was a pleasant, if frustrating, change –Genji found the fact that he had yet to win a single spar against Zenyatta a motivation to get better– but that feeling was quick to change when Genji realised that the quiet, teasing quips Zenyatta used to throw his way after sparring were now absent, replaced by quiet introspection.

Step by step, he felt like he was gaining something with every spar, even more so now that he had learned some things under Shuang’s tutelage that he could, if only vaguely, recognise in the way Zenyatta attacked whenever he was not using his orbs… but at the same time, there was something elusive that was slipping through his fingers. Instead of inching closer to Zenyatta, there was a growing chasm between them, and Genji had no idea what was happening.

They still spent time meditating together, enjoyed each other’s company, spoke idly of many things, nothing had outwardly changed…

And then Genji would catch Zenyatta staring at him, motionless and too quiet, his LED array dim, and something would twist inside his guts.

“Master…” it took Genji a month to decide that respecting Zenyatta’s boundaries could not prevent him from addressing whatever problem seemed to exist, and he tackled it the only way he could, by striking when Zenyatta was tending to Mister Flower so he could not deflect.

“Yes, Genji?” deft fingers brushed through the many new leaves sprouting from the plant as one orb hovered nearby, glowing softly. After over two months, the plant was growing back, green and strong, and even Genji felt a sliver of pride when looking at it. “Is there something you require?”

“I… yes”.

He sat down, and Zenyatta paused his work, the orb dimming before it returned to his neck.

Genji hesitated, then removed his visor, so Zenyatta would look at him properly. “I feel there is something bothering you, master, and… if there is anything I can do, please rely on me”.

If Zenyatta was startled by the sudden subject, he did not show it –in fact, his entire body appeared motionless, immobile in a way Genji had never seen before. Even his array lights were so dim they were almost gone. He could read nothing in that stance, and it was dreadful enough he had to suppress the sudden need to reach out and grab one of Zenyatta’s hands, if only to reassure himself he was still there, and not just an empty vessel.

“… I see,” Zenyatta said after what felt like forever, seconds ticking by slowly. “Forgive me for troubling you, Genji. There is…” he hesitated, but Zenyatta had never been one to lie. “There is something in my mind, but I… I feel like I must come to terms with it on my own”.

His words echoed through Genji with finality, not allowing him any chance to push. There was nothing else for him to do but relent and accept it, and he clenched his fists in frustration, feeling useless and dejected at the obvious rejection.

“You told me that there is no shame in sharing a burden if it gets too heavy to bear,” he looked up, gritting his teeth, and he knew, by the way Zenyatta’s head snapped back, that his face was open and raw, and far too easy to read. “We have walked side by side for years, have we not? My offer stands, whenever you are ready, Zenyatta”.

It was stupid to feel so hurt when he had no idea what the problem was, and Genji knew that he was just disappointed because Zenyatta had not readily opened up to him. Part of him wondered if despite his words, Zenyatta did not consider them to be truly equal, if their stay at Shuang had reminded him that Genji had a long way to go still, and that they were on two different planes of existence.

It hurt, and Genji knew there was baseless frustration there, mostly due to his own feelings and how deeply he wished them to be requited, but that did not soothe the hurt any.

Biting down on his frustration, he closed his eyes and placed his visor back on before standing up, taking two steps away from Zenyatta.

He did not look back, but caught his reflection on the mirror across the room. Zenyatta did not move, one hand hovering in the air almost as if to stop him, but it fell back to his lap, and Zenyatta did not speak, looking down and away, dejection obvious in his stance.

After a few seconds, he returned his attention to Mister Flower, and Genji left the room to vent some of his frustration through training.

That night, Zenyatta did not sit close to his bed, choosing to meditate in a corner of the room instead, and by the time Genji fell asleep, he was still there, orbs glowing softly as they floated around him.

***

Genji grew restless, after that.

He waited day after day, for Zenyatta to sort through whatever was bothering him and come to him. A second opinion, especially from someone close, could help for sure, if only Zenyatta would _allow_ him to help.

With each day yet again disappointing him, Genji’s worry only grew. What could bother someone as calm and in control as Zenyatta this much? It was noticeable during their spars too, and with how often they trained together nowadays, despite the awkward air around them, Genji noticed it more and more often, fighting down the urge to use those slips to his advantage.

In a real battle, he would have done so, but this was not a battle, and his opponent was no enemy. It was his master, the one Genji loved. He had enough respect not to use that against him to win.

What kind of victory would that be, if he used tricks to come out on top?

Genji longed to reach out to him, but felt that now, more than ever, his feelings would not reach Zenyatta, and he was afraid they would be misunderstood, so he reigned control of himself, and tried to wait.

It was difficult.

There were times when he would turn around, wanting to share something with Zenyatta –the sight of a sunset, or a colourful flower, or a kitten sitting on a stool in a restaurant– and feel Zenyatta’s eyes on him, his orbs wriggling restlessly around his neck, an obvious sign of his turmoil.

He wanted to try and remind Zenyatta that he was waiting, but the idea of sounding forceful, or pushing him into something, made him balk and renounce, and they would dance around each other once more, in silence.

It was then that the drone bearing a message from Winston arrived.

Genji was alone in the room they were sharing, Zenyatta gone off somewhere, when the windowpane slid open to allow the postal drone in. It hovered in the air for a few seconds, zooming in on Genji, then extended one mechanical arm to him, a robotic voice asking him to sign for a missive.

He did so with a frown, as usually letters from the few who knew how to find him were less technologically advanced, and then he fell quiet, watching the recorded message sent from Winston with awe mixed with shock.

OverWatch reforming, a plea for all agents who had once been part of it –even those who, like Genji, had only been working for a short period before leaving– to come back. Most of the message was impersonal and generic, pre-recorded to be sent to all of them, then there was a pause and a second message was unlocked.

This time, Winston spoke to Genji directly.

Genji had little fondness for his period with OverWatch, but most of his bitterness had been washed away with Zenyatta’s help. He could look back now with different eyes, and understand why he had felt so betrayed back then, so angry, and recognise the faults in his own behaviour too.

Winston himself asked forgiveness, though he had not been in charge at the time, and nothing that had happened had been his fault. Still, he took up the mantle of new commander now, and with it also the responsibility to admit how things had gone wrong.

Genji was one such case, and while Winston had little hope for his return, he still had to try to extend, at least, a virtual peace offering, and a formal apology.

After the message ended, Genji was left unsettled and on edge, mulling over Winston’s request and his heartfelt regret.

When Zenyatta returned, one hour later, he found Genji meditating on the windowsill, the drone gone and the message recorder on the bed.

***

“Master… I need to speak with you”.

Zenyatta inclined his head. He had been expecting it ever since the message with the OverWatch recall had arrived, and it had amazed him that Genji had waited an entire week before approaching him about it.

While not surprised about what was sure to come, Zenyatta knew that the catalyst would always be OverWatch, even years after Genji had left it behind.

It was why he was still alive, and why he was a cyborg now.

Genji sat down in seiza in front of him, waiting for permission to talk.

“You want to speak with me about OverWatch’s message,” he said, and Genji appeared unsurprised, nodding. He had removed his visor, as he always did whenever he felt the subject was important enough, and Zenyatta’s optical visors lingered on his visage before he forced himself to look away.

“Yes”.

“You wish to tell me that you have thought about it, and desire to answer the call and join their group once again,” Zenyatta continued.

This did startle Genji, who dropped his visor. Zenyatta chuckled, but he abruptly cut himself off when the sound, rather than amused, bled with bitterness.

“How…?”

“My dear, I have known you for a long time, now. I know of your doubts, and more than that I know that the thing you desire the most is change,” Zenyatta sighed. “You told me often that you feel guilty for the way you have treated your once companions, and have already attempted to reconcile with some of them through written correspondence,” he thought about Genji’s gentle doctor and her neat handwriting, and about Genji’s cowboy friend and his messy pages full of scribbled drawls. “But this would allow you to mend a part of your past that still haunts you”.

Genji’s shoulders shook as he chuckled. “Why must you always be right?”

“I only speak for what I can see, Genji,” he chided him. “You are a changed man, and you wish to bring that change with you, so that it can spread further. There is nothing that pleases me more than to see you extend aid to others not because you’re forced to, but because it is truly what you want to do”.

There –a fleeting smile on Genji’s lips, one that vanished far too quickly, making Zenyatta miss it the moment it was gone.

“So this is where you say goodbye,” he murmured, tone quiet, mournful. “Watching you fly free should be a joyous moment, yet parting ways feels bittersweet”.

The startled noise coming from Genji made Zenyatta look up from the floor. Genji looked disbelieving, and he was shaking his head wildly, so panicked it made Zenyatta pause, confused.

“I… no, that is not what I want,” Genji hesitated, then reached out, boldly, to hold one of Zenyatta’s hands in his own.

The contact was so abrupt Zenyatta almost pulled away, unsure all of sudden about the direction of their conversation. He felt uprooted, a vertigo of confusion making his thought processes sluggish. He had expected this conversation, _dreaded_ it, had seen it coming for months, though he did not know the catalyst would be OverWatch. He had seen Genji grow restless about their nomadic, quiet life, and had tried his best to prepare himself to let Genji go, though his traitorous core had made things harder every step of the way.

His selfish, incredibly greedy core that had fallen for his once student and did not want to part ways.

“Master… Zenyatta, I wanted to ask you to consider coming with me,” Genji spoke, his words cutting through the haze in Zenyatta’s mind, his thoughts focusing sharply on him. “There is no force on Earth that would drag me away from your side, not my desire to redeem myself, not OverWatch. Not even my brother, though I feel I am ready now to face even _him_. But this… I want you to come with me, and I know it’s so selfish to wish for you to change your life so radically just because I ask you to, but…” his words failed him, voice cracking, and Zenyatta felt Genji’s hand tighten its hold around his own, “I cannot think of a life where you are not by my side, for you already own my heart as well as my soul”.

Zenyatta’s fans stuttered into silence, the absurdity of Genji’s words failing to make any sense in his mind.

“I…?”

“I have been in love with you for a long time,” Genji said, with such finality that Zenyatta felt swept away by it, drowning and burning at the same time. “I watched, and waited, and my feelings for you have only increased since the start, and… if these feelings are not requited, please believe that I would never ask for anything other than your friendship and respect, and I would be satisfied with that. But the thought of us parting ways is not one I can stand, Zenyatta, so… would you… consider it? My feelings, my request…?”

Genji’s hand around his own was grounding, the only security as Zenyatta felt himself overheat, thoughts attempting to wrap around the fact that Genji had _not_ meant to leave, or even abandon him, but instead wanted–

That Genji, his dear Genji, actually _lo_ –

Zenyatta slumped forwards, free hand pressed against the nearby table to steady himself, and Genji instantly shifted closer, alarmed, and all Zenyatta could do was

Laugh.

It started abruptly, a soft, disbelieving chuckle that quickly grew into a loud, fluttery laughter.

Zenyatta laughed, core light and feeling so full he felt he could almost feel the presence of the Iris surrounding him without the need to reach within to touch it.

Relief, because Genji was not growing tired of his presence, joy because his doubts, the discord he had felt growing inside him for months had been just baseless fears, the insecurities he had been unable to share with Genji due to his embarrassment, for feelings he had not expected to have returned, or even acknowledged, when Genji’s life surely was preparing for something so much better, somewhere else–

“Master!” with clear worry, Genji hovered at his side, attempting to let go of his hand, but Zenyatta turned his hand around and intertwined their fingers together, holding onto Genji’s hand like a lifeline even as he continued to laugh, unable to stop.

Breathless without needing to breath, lightheaded and so full, Zenyatta leaned forwards, pressing his forehead against Genji’s chest plates.

“Forgive me, my dear Genji,” he finally murmured, shoulders shaking with the remnants of his laughter, “For I am but a fool”.

“Zenyatta, I don’t understand, I–”

He could feel Genji’s fans kicking in, out of worry or embarrassment or both, Zenyatta had no idea, but the thought sent him into another, shorter bout of laughter.

“Yes,” he interrupted him, mirth and joy bleeding into his tone, his other hand coming to wrap around Genji’s shoulder, tilting himself up to look at his face. “I am, indeed, a fool. I might be enlightened, but even I can falter and make mistakes. Yes, Genji, my answer is yes”.

“… y-yes? To…”

“Yes, to both,” he replied, array lights flickering in a smile. “Yes, I will come with you, for there is no other place that would feel like home for me, and yes, my sparrow –your feelings are already returned, and they’ve been for a long time”.

He could feel the way Genji’s core stuttered, and then Genji’s expression shift from shock to tentative awe, to delight. “I…” he swallowed, voice shaking. “I would like to kiss you now”.

“You have my permission to do so, anytime you wi–” and he did not even need to finish speaking, for Genji had already moved to hold his jaw, tilting his head further up to meet the edge of his mouth piece with his own so very human lips.

The sensor nodes under his metal burned with sensation, the feeling of Genji’s body pressed flush against his own made Zenyatta’s core _vibrate_ , and he shuddered, unable to return the kiss but kissing back in his own way, sending a sparkle of omnic energy through to touch Genji’s lips.

Genji’s muffled yelp had him chuckle, but when Genji moved away from him, confusion and awe on his face, Zenyatta followed him, unwilling to stop.

“… wh-what…”

“You cannot ask to kiss me and not expect me to kiss you back. I might lack lips, but the same could be said for you… your receptors are unsuited for an omnic kiss. And yet, we fit together perfectly, wouldn’t you agree?”

Genji’s answer was another kiss, then another, as he pressed his lips on every inch of Zenyatta’s mouth piece, then on his cheeks, then on his forehead array.

Zenyatta’s fans kicked in action, heat burning its way through his body at the warm, carefree gesture, and he tried to return a fraction of the love he was receiving by pressing his face against the crook of Genji’s neck, omnic energy sparkling and flickering against the curve of his metal plates.

Genji shivered and hissed at the feeling, lips parting to press his tongue and then his teeth against a node on the side of Zenyatta’s neck, and he gasped out, arching up at the sudden rush of feeling he got from such a small action.

“Genji…”

“Was… was this what you were so afraid of?” Genji asked, still busy pressing kisses down the curve of Zenyatta’s neck, lips and tongue following a piston to its base before moving back up to his mouth piece. “You thought I wanted to leave…?”

Pieces were falling together one by one –Zenyatta’s hesitant attitude when he’d allowed him to train under Shuang, his attempts to spar with him more often, his quiet reservation, his attempt to sort his problem by himself since the problem was…

“Oh, Zenyatta…”

Zenyatta’s grip on Genji’s shoulder tightened, as did the one on his hand, metal protesting against the increased pressure. “It must appear so stupid, but after…” Zenyatta’s voice faltered into a discordant glitch, open and raw and remembering the moment of utter chaos he’d felt at Mondatta’s death, “it seems like I do not want to fully part from those who are dear to me, now”.

“I’m grateful you feel like that, as I feel the same selfish need to be by your side”.

There was little need for anymore words after that, though both knew they would have to talk more, afterwards.

For now, though, what mattered was their hands clasped tightly together, fingers intertwined, lips parted to kiss and cores humming at the same intensity.

***

The room Winston had ready for Genji was small, yet pleasant.

It was not the same one he’d used back then, which he was grateful for. It had a spacious bed, a window and a private bathroom, which much to his pleasure, had a shower big enough for him to move comfortably in it, and nice, clean towels.

There was a table, and an armoire, and though Winston had not expected him to bring someone, or for him to respond to his recall at all, the room was big enough for him to share with Zenyatta, at least until another room was fixed and ready for him to take.

Neither was sure what would happen now –they had yet to meet the rest of the recalled members, and did not know who had answered and who had not, nor any of the newer members Winston had contacted to join, but that would come later.

After Genji’s confession, and their mutual decision to accept Winston’s recall request, things had moved quickly. First, Genji had travelled to Japan, in order to face his own brother on the anniversary of his own ‘death’. The time apart had allowed them to think and strengthen their resolve, and once Genji came back they had moved to join with the rest of the newly reformed OverWatch team.

Despite the long time spent travelling to get to the base, they had little time to stop and rest once they were alone to their assigned room. Winston had already sent a memo for a meeting, so all the members already present at the base could meet with one another, and both Genji and Zenyatta needed to be present.

Before leaving, though, Zenyatta made sure to place Mister Flower on the windowsill, where it could catch the last few rays of sunlight before nightfall.

As they had little to make the room their own, the plant was a splash of green that made Genji feel at home already.

As Zenyatta passed by him, heading out of the room, Genji stole a quick, giddy kiss, one hand pressed against the edge of the door, the other wrapped around Zenyatta’s midsection.

“Genji–”

“Yes, I know, we might run late,” he chuckled, breathless, a smile on his lips before he placed his visor back on. “But I recall permission to kiss you anytime I wished, unless you want to take that back?”

“I wonder who taught you to be this cheeky,” Zenyatta murmured amiably, hands curled around the edge of Genji’s elbow, nudging him out of the room. “It couldn’t have been me”.

“Of course not, _Master_ ,” Genji was smiling, though it was not visible anymore. “Far from me to insinuate such a thing”.

“You are lucky I am so fond of you, my dear,” Zenyatta initiated their next kiss, omnic energy sparkling between them.

There had been enough time, as they travelled to the OverWatch base, for Genji to grow fond of Zenyatta’s unique kisses.

They walked together out of the room, door sliding close behind their back.

On the windowsill, Mister Flower soaked in the warmth of the sun, tiny buds almost ready to blossom.

Once it did, it would be a sight to behold.

 


End file.
